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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077560">still rocking your hoodie (and chewing on the strings)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearmiintt/pseuds/spearmiintt'>spearmiintt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Breaking Up &amp; Making Up, Hoodies, M/M, Songfic, Sweaters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:21:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearmiintt/pseuds/spearmiintt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George still has Dream's hoodie after the breakup.</p><p>based on 'hoodie' by hey violet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>370</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>still rocking your hoodie (and chewing on the strings)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLucyxo/gifts">LilLucyxo</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Dream?” George had demanded as soon as Dream picked up the phone. The other man was still giggling, talking through his amusement as he laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dream chuckled. “It’s just a joke, calm down.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George seethed on the other end of the line. “Why did you tweet the photos of me in your hoodie? Do you know what the fans will say?” he asked exasperatedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last trails of Dream’s laugh faded as his voice softened into one of gentle concern. “George, I-”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Dream. I want this to end,” George finally exhaled, his anger seeping out of him as he thought fully about the words that had just left his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why? George, come on, I didn’t think it was that serious,” Dream’s voice came out hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just been bad for a while between us, Clay,” George mumbled, tilting his head up as he willed the tears threatening to spill away. “Don’t you think it’s time to take a break?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde falls silent at the other end of the call. “George, I- I’m sorry-”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brunette sighs. “Dream, it’s- it’s what I want, okay?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call goes dead after a long moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the memory wouldn’t hurt as much, if only George wasn’t standing in front of the open closet door two weeks later, looking at the bright green of the oversized hoodie his ex-boyfriend had sent him only a month ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been over the moon receiving it, staying on the phone with Dream the entire day until his phone had finally sent him the notification that an international tracked package was waiting for him at his local post office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s here!” he’d cried gleefully, grinning widely at the pixelated image of Dream over the Facetime call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The green-eyed man had chuckled. “I’m glad,” he smiled. “I hope you like it.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vaguely, George reached out and ghosted his fingers over the fleece material, pulling it from between two other shirts and holding it to his face. He hesitated, and then inhaled deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, the smell of Dream’s cologne washed over him, pouring through his senses and almost dizzying him with the near-euphoria it had filled him with. It wouldn’t hurt as much if he knew he was over him, but he wasn’t. And if he wasn’t over Dream anyways, what harm could wearing his hoodie do? No one would know. He lived alone and as long as he didn’t wear it on stream, it would be his secret, a hidden comfort that he could run to whenever he wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t even the pictures, George knew. The pictures weren’t the problem. What had scared him was the publicity of it. What him and Dream had was theirs, and he didn’t want millions of fans looking at what he considered something intimate, private, something that he could call his own, without anyone else involving themselves in it. And now, the fans almost definitely knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George hadn’t even wanted to see the aftermath of Dream’s tweet, almost immediately deleting Twitter off of his phone after he’d seen the photos that the other man had released to the public. And then the phone call had happened, and now he didn’t have a boyfriend anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let himself cry silently as he slept in the green sweater that night, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p>
  <span> George gets ready to stream a week later. It would be Jackbox tonight, with Quackity, Karl, Sapnap, and Corpse. He figured he’d need something to pull him out of his wallowing as he turned his computer on, fiddling absentmindedly with the strings of his sweatshirt as he loaded Twitch and quickly clicked on the “Go live” button, turning donos to $1000 and moving his chat to a different monitor so he wouldn’t be barraged by a constant stream of text. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello!” he exclaimed, the real and feigned enthusiasm blurring together in one mix as he smiled at the blinking webcam. “Hi! Uh, I don’t have donos on- well, unless you can donate a thousand dollars, but-” he chuckled. “-I don’t know if that’ll happen, please don’t feel like you have to donate that much,” he paused. “Also, I don’t think I’ll be reading chat that much today either, so…” George trailed off. “Anyways, let me join the VC.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity’s voice immediately erupted through his headset. “George!” the black-haired friend called. “Are you ready?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George let himself laugh for the first time in what seemed like forever. “Yes,” he said. “Where’s the rest of the-”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Karl spoke in a comedic tone, deepening his voice a few decibels. “I am Corpse.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corpse’s deeper voice chuckled as he tuned into the voice call as well. “Shut up, I’m Corpse.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sapnap’s deepened voice came through, completing the group. “No, I’m the real Corpse!”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all laughed before starting the game of Quiplash, groaning as Karl purposely leaked the code. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karl!” George exclaimed, grabbing at the strings of the hoodie he’d been wearing the entire day to chew on them as he smiled. “Why would you do that?” He looked down at the two lines of cotton in his hands, dangling them between his teeth. Only, he couldn’t let them fall to his chest again. Because he realized they were the wrong color. They were… green. The color of Dream’s-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if his thoughts could be read, his phone went off with a chime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dream: Why the fuck are you wearing my hoodie on stream?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George paled. He’d messed up, and badly. No text-to-speech donos were coming </span>
  <span>through to bring his error to attention, and he’d specifically moved the chat to a different screen, thinking that it would help him focus more on his stream. But he knew the fans knew. They’d all seen the photos of him in the exact same sweatshirt, hadn’t they?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity’s voice came through from a million miles away. “Haha, George didn’t submit an answer!”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Karl’s laugh rang in George’s ear through the rushing blood that the brunette was now being deafened by. “Automatic win for Corpse!”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then another text from his ex-boyfriend. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dream: I thought we ended things? I didn’t know you still had my sweater.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George managed to move his frozen lips and form sound, laughing as comfortably as he could falsify, trying to maintain a sense of calm so that he wouldn’t make the situation worse in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers. “Uh,” he coughed, forcing a smile onto his face. “I- I zoned out.” It was a stupid excuse, but he’d nearly admitted to his mistake in front of a livestream full of fans, though he was thankful he couldn’t see the tags and mentions rolling in from Twitter of the moment’s clips that fans would inevitably be making by this point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, the stream passed by without any more grave realizations, the tone changing instead to lighthearted jokes being passed between all five of them. It was good. It helped George take his mind off of things, however temporarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, two hours had dwindled by, goodbyes being exchanged before George quickly deafened the call to address his stream, reading out a few subscriber gifters before waving at his camera for half a minute. “Bye, you guys! See you soon!” And he clicked his camera off, not even opting to raid as he pushed back from his desk shakily and took a deep breath in, immediately pulling Dream’s hoodie from his body and throwing it onto his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost as if it had been timed, another text came through.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dream: I know you’ve seen this, why were you wearing my hoodie for everyone to see?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed and ran his fingers meaninglessly over the keyboard a few times before deleting the gibberish he’d typed out and instead settling on a calm, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, Dream was calling him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George chokingly inhaled before clicking on the green “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Accept Call</span>
  </em>
  <span>” button, bringing the phone slowly to his ear. “Hello?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream already sounded frustrated as soon as his crackly voice came through to George’s end. “George, what the hell? Listen, I know I fucked up, okay? But- but why are you trying to- I don’t even know, get back at me? What are you trying to do? Have you seen Twitter? I can’t even open the app-”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George exhaled harshly, feeling his own temper rise. “Then why the fuck did you post the photos without asking me?” he scoffed, smiling humorlessly to himself. “You think you can’t open Twitter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream hesitated. “Because-”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no excuse, Dream,” George spat out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fucked up, okay?” Dream nearly shouted, causing George to quickly pull the </span>
  <span>phone back from his ear. “I fucked up, really badly. I didn’t think before I sent the tweet, and I didn’t know you wanted to stay private, and I didn’t ask you. I messed up, so bad, okay? And I wish I could tell you how sorry I am, but I can’t because I don’t even know where I’d start, and I want you back, okay, I want you back like I’ve never wanted anyone else back, ever, and I know this apology is half-assed, but I just can’t lose you, George,” Dream couldn’t seem to stop himself as he breathed in and out harshly and loudly, shifting the phone so that George could hear him clearly. “So, why, George-” the blonde begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But George opened his mouth and started to speak before Dream could go on. “I wore the hoodie because I’m not over you! I’ve been living and eating and crying myself to sleep in your stupid fucking sweatshirt and I want to hate you so bad but I can’t because- because you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dream,” he lets the hurt crack into his voice as he finishes, stubbornly using the sleeve of Dream’s hoodie to wipe at the tears that had fallen down his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream was silent for a long moment on the other end of the call. It was a bated silence, stretching over the pair somehow, though they were across an ocean from each other. “George,” he eventually pleaded. “Just- just give me another chance. I’ll do whatever, I just- I can’t lose you.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled to himself, sniffling a little bit before asking, “will you send me another one of your sweaters?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream laughed, pleasantly confused. “If you want me to,” and the brunette could hear the smile in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay."</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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